a/n: i literally wrote this as a "christmas fic" because (considering Kelly's birthday) shannon probably would have found out she was pregnant around December.
Christmas, 1983
"Shannon," Gibbs yelled up the basement stairs.
His wife didn't answer, so he grabbed a towel off the bannister and started up, wiping grease and paint finisher off of his hands. He tossed the towel on the floor in the laundry room and prowled around, looking for her. She wasn't in the kitchen or the living room, so he assumed she'd gone to get ready for dinner with her parents at their country club. Gibbs scowled at the reminder that he had to get all dressed up in a stuffy suit and go to that godforsaken place for a fancy, high-brow Christmas dinner—Christmas wasn't even until next week!—and jogged up the stairs into their bedroom.
He noticed the bathroom door was closed and strode over, rapping on the door with his knuckles.
"Shannon," he said again, his voice lower.
She answered, but her voice was muffled.
"What?" he asked.
"What, honey?" she answered, louder and clearer.
He rubbed his jaw, scrubbing his thumb tensely against his earlobe.
"I been thinkin'."
"God help us all," she retorted good-naturedly.
His knuckles went against the door again.
"Open the door," he growled. She didn't comply right away. He rolled his eyes. "I've seen you naked, Mrs. Gibbs."
She unlocked and opened the door, and faced him, her hands behind her back. He heard a small sound as she dropped something into the wastebasket. She stood there in panties and a short red T-shirt, her hair half-up, half-down. There was a towel on the floor, and the room smelled like her favorite perfume.
"I been thinkin," he repeated.
She dipped her head, arching an eyebrow.
"About the thing?" she asked.
"Yeah, the thing," he retorted gruffly.
She arched her brow higher, waiting. He rubbed his jaw again, catching his skin with a dull nail this time. She had made it clear there was no right or wrong answer, and she hadn't put any pressure on him, she'd just wanted to talk about it. Her mother kept bothering her about it, and she gave in and decided she wanted a rehearsed answer to give. He looked at her silently for a moment, and then lowered his hand, and let his wrist hit against his leg.
"I though, uh," he began. He cleared his throat gruffly. "I thought we should wait…until I get a promotion," he went on seriously. "Better pay, less hazard combat," he added gruffly. He grit his teeth warily. "And until…we been married longer."
It had only been about a year and a half.
Shannon nodded, her lips pressing together tightly as she swallowed.
He looked at her uncertainly.
"Yes," she murmured. "Yes—I had…I thought the same," she answered, shifting her weight. She drew one ankle against the other and rubbed her feet together. "I want to finish my Master's thesis, first," she said logically.
He gave her a look of relief, and smirked, leaning against the door.
"I don't think I'm ready to do it, anyway," Shannon said faintly.
"Good, me neither," he retorted flippantly—not that he'd ever admit it, but the thought of having a baby to take care of scared the living daylights out of him. "No baby, yet," he asserted firmly.
"Well, not exactly."
"'Course, we can always practice—what?" He started to flirt with her like the charming husband he was, until he caught what she'd said and broke off.
She parted her lips, and then bit the bottom one. He narrowed his eyes warily.
"You agreed with me," he accused.
She nodded.
"Yes," she answered in a small, calm voice. "I'm not ready for one; you want more financial security," she repeated.
"Yeah, and I think I'd break it," Gibbs joked seriously. "What's the problem Shannon?"
She blinked.
"I'm pregnant," she answered bluntly.
It was probably the first time in his life his jaw actually dropped. He stared at her, blindsided, completely at a loss for what to say. She took a deep breath, lifted her chin—and then before he could register how he felt, she burst into tears.
His eyes widened even more.
She pushed her hair back and covered her face, turning towards the sink.
"Shannon?" he asked hoarsely, startled.
He barged into the their bathroom and slipped his arm around her waist, concerned about the reaction. He ran his hand up her side, squeezing her ribs gently, and shot her bowed head a confused look.
"What the hell's the matter with you?" he asked, exasperated.
His heart seemed to be attempting to beat its way out of his chest. She slid her hands down and braced them on the sink, blinking her eyes and sucking in her breath.
"Is that what you threw away?" he asked, trying to catch her eye.
"What?" she asked, distracted. She looked up at him.
"I heard you chuck somethin' in the trash," he muttered, shifting around her and picking up the basket. He set it on the back of the toilet and grabbed the pregnancy test out, peering at it warily. He held it up to her, and she pressed her lips together tightly, and nodded her head. He moved closer to her, resting his hand on the sink next to hers. She looked down at it, and licked her lips.
"I did-I had decided we needed to wait," she admitted, trying to compose herself. "I was in class when I realized how time consuming my thesis is, and I pulled out my calendar to mark an assignment and I realized," she broke off, and then tapped the pregnancy test. "I was scared it was going to be positive, and then it was."
"You're not happy?" he asked, disappointed that she was upset—was he happy?
She looked at him.
"I am happy," she corrected, her lashes shielding her eyes for a moment. "I saw it and I had a complete change of heart—"
"Why're you crying?" he interrupted.
"You just barged in and told me you didn't want to have a baby!" she retorted, raising her voice. "You're not ready!"
He set his shoulders back.
"I can get ready," he told her seriously, affronted suddenly that she thought he might not be up to the challenge. He ignored how much the idea had scared him five minutes ago—he couldn't worry about that now.
"You said you wanted us to wait," she insisted.
"Yeah, so did you," he growled back, confused again.
"I had a change of heart! It's an instinct!" she defended.
"Well, I changed my mind, too!" he growled indignantly.
She snorted, her tears drying up slowly.
"When, two minutes ago?" she challenged.
"That's about when you said you were pregnant, so yeah," he retorted bluntly, slipping his arm around her waist again. "You cryin' 'cause you think I'm mad at you?" he asked quietly, giving her an earnest look.
She looked frustrated.
She pointed at the pregnancy test.
"It changed my mind—your mind—in an instant," she said, snapping. "It doesn't make sense."
He flicked the thing into the sink with nonchalance and tugged her around to hug her, looking down at her. He shrugged. She pressed her palm to his chest and gave him a look—she knew by his heartbeat that he was not as calm as he was letting on. He furrowed his brow in a look of mock consternation.
"Isn't Christmas all about surprise babies or somethin'?" he drawled.
She raised her eyes to the ceiling and bit her lip.
"He's already comparing his offspring to the son of God," she muttered, exasperated.
He tugged on her hair gently and leaned in to kiss her, resting his forehead against hers.
"You were gonna tell me, right?" he growled softly.
"I could barely think straight," she answered, her lashes batting anxiously against her skin. "I had this panicked idea that I'd stick it in your Christmas stocking, and then you banged on the door."
He glared at her.
"You have any idea where that stick's been?" he demanded distastefully.
"You already touched it!" she laughed huskily, reaching up to rub her eyes drier.
He made a dramatic show of yanking his hands towards him and looking horrified. She slapped them down and wrapped her arms around his neck, hopping up and perching on the counter. She leaned in to kiss him, apprehension in her smile. He nudged her cheek with his nose, trying to dry the lingering tears.
"What're we gonna tell your mom?"
"Nothin'," she hissed quietly. "Not until February. In case—something bad happens."
"It won't," Gibbs assured her firmly, wrapping his around around her middle. Very suddenly, he wanted Shannon to have a baby, and he didn't want to think about anything bad happening.
She smiled, and he kissed her.
"You're sure?" she asked, her voice catching. "I need you to do this, Jethro. I can't do it alone."
He nodded. He was sure he could get ready. He'd just operate like it was a battlefield—keep the fear in check by focusing on the job to be done.
"I don't think you'll break the baby, if it's any consolation," she murmured to him affectionately.
"When?" he asked against her lips.
She paused, her lips moving faintly as she calculated.
"August?" she guessed tentatively.
She beamed—nervously.
He nodded, his jaw tightening determinedly.
"Gives me 'bout," he paused, counting, and she shoved him in the shoulder.
"Nine months, Jethro," she said loudly, rolling her eyes.
He looked sheepish.
"Right," he muttered—he should have known that immediately.
She touched her nose to his cheek and kissed him again, and he held her close against his panicking heart, knowing she'd calm him down.
It looked like this second Christmas of theirs would be the last one for just the two of them.
i do a lot of screaming inside my head because of how cute these two are. were.
-alexandra